Snow  Snow  SNOW!
by Calim1
Summary: It's Christmas time and the Grissoms are bound for Mt. Rainier.  CSI Forever Online Dec FF entry.


_**MERRY CHRISTMAS! **Here's hoping all of you have a wonderful and happy Christmas (or whatever you celebrate)! _

_This is my entry into the December challenge on CSI Forever Online that must include mistletoe, ho-ho-ho and a Secret Santa in the story.  
><em>

_Enjoy!_

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><p><strong>CSI – Snow – Snow – SNOW!<strong>

by Susan Dietz (Calim1)  
>Rating and Reader Alerts: PG<br>Category: GG/SS/ROMANCE/HUMOR

Summary: It's Christmas time again and, this time, the Grissoms are bound for Mt. Rainier for work then fun. An entry in the December fan fiction contest on CSI Forever Online .com that requested Secret Santa, mistletoe and 'ho-ho-ho' be included in our story. _(The title comes from the White Christmas song "Snow")_

_Author's Note: Like my Xmas story last year (Do You Hear What I Hear?), I think this one could also land somewhere in my Happily Ever After dramedy series, I just don't know where yet. MERRY CHRISTMAS ONE AND ALL!_

_Author's Note 2: To all of my __A Blink of an Eye__ loyal readers, I've been distracted by this Christmas piece, Christmas then a bout with stomach flu that I don't recommend. But have no fear! We don't do much celebrating after Christmas (and I'm on the mend) so writing is what I'll be doing. Expect something in January. _

_© December 2011_

_Feedback is appreciated_

_Disclaimer: The characters and general situations in this story are the property of CBS and Jerry Bruckheimer, however I reserve the rights to the specific details. It is not my intention to infringe upon their rights; this story is purely for the enjoyment of fans. Please do not redistribute in any form._

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><p><em><strong><span>'Tis the season to be jolly<span>  
><strong>_

"What's this?" Gil Grissom asked of Catherine Willows as he picked up the folded piece of paper she'd dropped on his file.

"Your Secret Santa person."

He frowned. "My what?"

"Your Secret Santa. The one you're going to buy a gift for." He still looked perplexed and she rolled her eyes. "Gil, you signed up to participate in our Secret Santa. You missed the drawing because you were in a meeting with the Sheriff so you get the last one," she finished pointing to the paper in his hand.

Puzzlement gave way to recognition and he sighed. "What if I get Warrick or Nick? I've no idea what to get them." He looked up at her smug face. "Why'd you let me sign up for this?"

She laughed. "You're a big boy, Gil. You'll figure it out."

He rubbed his eyes. "What was the dollar amount again?"

"$10.00."

"$10.00."

"Yep."

"When is it due?"

"December 24th. The day you come back." He exhaled noisily. "Cheer up, Gil. Maybe Hodges'll get you something nice." His eyes shot up to her and she laughed. "I'm teasing. It's just your team."

"So you don't really know who . . ?"

"Secret Santa remember?" she replied.

"Yeah, but you always seem to know these things."

"S-e-c-r-e-t Santa."

"Fine," he answered seeing the twinkle in her eye. He decided to ignore it.

"Now tell me about this trip of yours," she asked plopping down in the chair opposite his desk.

"Why?" he asked taking off his glasses to rub his eyes.

"Why? Because I want to know."

"You've never cared before," he stated with an unwavering look to which she nodded.

"That's true but, this year, I want to know because your wife seems really excited." She leaned in toward him. "So what are you planning, Gil? A little roll in the snow?" She wiggled her brows and watched as a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Is that all you ever think about?" he asked making her laugh.

"Guys aren't the only ones who think about sex all the time."

"According to the Kinsey Institute 54% of men think about sex every day or several times a day," Grissom stated with authority. "That's far from all the time."

"And you?"

He shrugged. "It shifts between several and many depending on how much energy I might have at the time."

She sniggered and he smiled. "So tell me about your trip."

"You really want to know?"

"I really want to know."

"Okay. Well, we're going on a mistletoe hunt to Mt. Rainier with Ben Wager and five of his botany students." She seemed lost so he decided to enlighten her. "Ben teaches at the University of Washington. We've know each other a long time and I've been his guest speaker before."

"So let me get this straight," Catherine began. "You're going all the way to Washington state to find mistletoe when you can buy it at almost any store?" He gave her that look - the one that speaks loud and clear 'what's wrong with you?' "I'm sorry," she responded holding up a hand. "I forgot myself there for a minute."

"Yes, you did," he gave back.

"Go on. I know you want to say more," she said, a ghost of a smile on her face as his eyes began to shine, knowing he was about to slip into lecture mode.

"Mistletoe is a hemiparasite - a partial parasite. It grows on the trunk or branches of a tree sending out roots into that tree to gather nutrients. In the US we have Phoradendron flavescens which we see around Christmas. The European version, Viscum album, is a green shrub with small, yellow flowers and white, sticky berries which are considered poisonous. The Greeks thought it had mystical powers. Mistletoe has long been regarded as both a sexual symbol and the 'soul' of an oak tree."

"I know I'm going to regret this but . . . what about the kissing part?" she asked.

"Ah, that was first associated with the Greek festival of Saturnalia. In Scandinavia it stood for peace so enemies could declare a truce under it or warring spouses could kiss and make-up. Then a kissing ball was created in 18th Century England. At Christmas time a young lady standing beneath the ball could not refuse a kiss."

"What happened if she did?"

He seemed at a loss. "I can't imagine a young lady of the time saying no."

"Probably beaten and sent out to the shed," Catherine decided.

"Probably," he agreed. "A kiss under the kissing ball could mean a lasting friendship or a great romance to last a lifetime."

"And you get to spend time hunting for mistletoe with your great romance, you lucky dog," she grinned.

He felt himself begin to blush and cursed his inability to not do that then decided to just go with it, looking Catherine in the eye. "Yes, I do. Thanks for arranging the time for me."

"Who am I to stand in the way of happiness. She likes looking for these things as much as you do. It's scary how much alike you guys are."

"She _is_ pretty cute, huh?" he said with a grin.

"You're an incurable romantic, Gil. Don't ever change," she laughed as she rose from the chair. "Oh, and if your Secret Santa person is me," she said pointing at the folded paper. "I prefer Dom Perignon to anything else."

Smiling, she waltzed out of his office leaving him to frown after her as he opened the folded piece of paper. His brows rose.

"Secret indeed," he muttered tucking the paper in his pocket with a slight smile.

_**csicsicsicsicsi**_

_**As the shoppers rush home with their treasures****  
><strong>_

"So who's your Secret Santa?" Sara Sidle-Grissom asked of her husband as they sauntered through the snow gear aisle of the local REI.

"According to Catherine I'm not supposed to tell," he answered as he pawed through the parkas.

"Rules were made to be broken," she gave back with a smile to which he raised a brow.

"I prefer not to break them. It keeps me out of trouble . . . most of the time," he added checking the price tag of a blue down parka and moving on.

"I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours," she said in a sing-song voice making him stop and stare at her. "What?"

"I bet you were like this as a kid."

"Like what?" she asked with a silly grin. "Pushy? Manipulative? Scheming?"

"I was going to say adorable."

"Were not."

"Was, too," he said giving her a quick kiss on the tip of her nose. "As adorable as a snow bunny."

Her brows narrowed. "A what?"

He nodded toward something behind her and she turned to see a large cut out of a big-busted blonde in a skimpy Santa suit selling the latest skiwear with "Snow Bunny" plastered across her chest.

"Really?" she gave back in a menacing tone.

Realizing his possible error, he quickly grabbed her. "You're _my_ snow bunny and I wouldn't trade you in for anything. Not a thing."

"Really?" came at him again but this time in a sweet tone as she leaned against him.

"Really," he answered holding her close. "Well, maybe a corn dog. I'm really hungry."

She gave him a soft punch and an uttered 'oomph' followed. "You're bad, mister," she said disentangling herself from him. "We'll eat when we've found something to keep you warm."

"You keep me warm," he said trailing behind her, pulling out a black parka with white trim.

"Not on the field trip. There will be children present."

"They're over 18."

"They're still kids to me."

"Me, too," he sighed slinking up behind her and pulling her close. "There's always the Lodge where we can snuggle up together in front of the fire and drink hot toddies."

"Oh, I'll keep you warm then, mister. Don't you doubt it," she replied in a deep voice that sent shivers through him. "But, out in the field, you'll still need warm clothes. I won't have you coming back sick like last time."

"There were complications last time."

She turned in his arms. "Yeah, like thinking you could go out in 15 degree weather in your winter coat for Vegas. Silly man."

"It wasn't supposed to snow."

"You were in Alaska, in their snow season."

"Well, you weren't there to keep me warm," he added with a bright smile of which she returned giving him a quick kiss.

"Good answer. Now let's shop." Slipping from his arms, she headed for another group of parkas.

"Remember we're here because _you're_ the one that ruined my last parka," he called after her.

"It _said_ washable," she explained in a tone that spoke of having had to repeat herself over and over again. "How was I to know the seam would break and all those little feathers would smother me when I opened the washer." She heard him snigger and gave him a laser-eyed look. "Get over here and look or it'll be too late for lunch."

"Okay," he agreed rubbing at his growling stomach.

Passing over parka after parka, Grissom finally settled on a red/gray number with a removable liner and hood. Gloves came with the package. His old hiking boots were not adequate enough (according to Sara) and so off to the shoe department he went, handing off a couple of styles to the salesman to find his size. He was startled when a hat was suddenly slapped over his head.

"What the . . ."

"This will be perfect," Sara decreed coming into his line of vision, beaming at him as she pulled down the ear flaps then straightened it upon his head. "There. You look very warm."

"It's fuzzy," he said reaching up to feel the fur lining.

"Faux fur. You know how I am about that."

"Yes, dear."

She snickered and created a perfect bow of the ties under his chin. "Now your ears are covered and," she began pulling out a soft, black muffler and wrapping it about him, "so is your neck. Are you warm?" He just smiled at her. "What?"

"You are too cute, my snow bunny," he whispered just before giving her a kiss, eyes flicking up at the 'ahem' sound made by the salesman returning with his shoes.

"Nice hat," he said handing off the shoes. Grissom pursed his lips at the faint grin on the young man's face.

"Thanks," he answered, his gaze following after him as he glommed onto another customer. "I believe he was making fun of me," he finally said.

"Don't listen to him. He's a guy," said Sara with a dismissive wave of her hand.

"But I'm a guy," he said looking at her.

She wiggled her brows. "And a mighty fine one, too," she gave back handing him the first pair of boots.

Lacing them up, he took a short stroll trying to find a mirror, Sara watching him. Not only did he still have that hat on but one of his pant legs was bunched up. She didn't dare tell him for the embarrassment would turn his entire head red. She'd finally learned with Grissom that if he didn't notice, everything was fine but once you pointed it out, well, he'd run for the hills. But he was getting better, deciding that it only mattered what she said or thought which was mighty fine with her.

"Well?" she asked as he ventured back, his pant leg still hiked up.

"They're comfy."

"Want to try the others?" she asked reaching over to grab the second set of boots.

"I don't know," he muttered, chewing on his lower lip.

"You know, Gil, we can always fall back on our 'eeny-meeny-miney-mo' approach if it becomes necessary," she said in mock seriousness. "We've used it before."

He kept looking at his feet as he nodded. "That _did_ work last time didn't it?" he replied with a raise of a brow, trying to keep the grin off his face.

It was then that the teenagers walked by.

And they didn't just walk by silently.

No.

Peals of laughter broke out followed by the words 'snow dork' and finger pointing directly at Grissom who's head snapped up, his flinty gaze thrown their way with such force they quickly retreated, disappearing into the snowboard section of the store.

Once out of sight he turned his glare onto Sara. "Did you hear what they called me?" he asked.

"I did."

"It's the hat."

"No, of course not," she tried. "Maybe it was your pant leg."

He looked at that and hastily pulled down his pants. "It's the hat," he said quickly reaching for the ties under his chin.

She was immediately on her feet. "Don't take it off."

"I've had the salesman give me a snarky look and three teens put a name to it. I can't wear this on the field trip. Those kids'll crucify me."

"You told me they weren't kids."

"Their barely 20. They're still kids with less than sophisticated humor."

"You need a hat, Gil," Sara tried reaching up to help him fix the knot he'd made of the bow.

"I'll wear something else."

"This is perfect."

"Why?"

"Because."

"Because why?"

She avoided his eyes, intent on the knot. "Because when you get run over by a reindeer I'll be able to ID you."

There was a moment where nothing but silence reigned then she dared to look up and they stared at each other, but only a moment because that's all she could last before bursting out laughing.

"Ha, ha," he gave back grabbing the top of the hat and pulling it off his head nearly taking his chin with it, leaving his hair standing on end with static.

She touched his cheek while he tried to unsuccessfully redirect his hair. "I'm just teasing," she finally said getting him to look at her. "It doesn't make you look silly. It makes you look smart since we know a lot of the body's heat slips out through the head."

"Yeah, but I can just use my knit hat from last year."

"You could," she said, undoing the knot and slipping the hat back on his head over his hopelessly staticy hair. "But Hank got a hold of it a few months back and now, well, it's seen better days."

"I loved that hat," he said with a slight pout.

"I know, sweetie," she said smiling at him. "But this hat . . . this hat . . . well, it does something for me, to me," she said whispering that last bit.

His fidgeting stopped and brows rose swiftly. "Oh?"

He kept perfectly still as she leaned in close to his ear. "I think it's a lucky hat," she began, nuzzling his neck. "Snow bunny lucky for the snow dork where I foresee . . ."

She leaned in even closer to finish her exquisitely erotic sweet nothings causing his eyes to glaze over and all the sounds around him to phase out.

Finished, she backed away and gave him a bright smile. "I'll be over in the women's section."

A faint smile touched one side of his mouth as he watched her walk away and, suddenly, nothing else mattered.

"Sir?"

"Hmm?" was all Grissom could put together as he lazily looked around, the store sounds coming back in a bunch as he was finally able to focus on the salesman waiting for him. "Ah, I'll-I'll take these. Let me, ah, let me get them off," he stammered as he plopped down on the bench.

"Very good, sir. Anything else?" he asked, waiting patiently for Grissom to gather his belongings and himself.

Without hesitation, he whisked the hat off his head and placed it on the shoe box along with the muffler and parka and gave the young man a pointed look that, hopefully, would stop any comment other than cash or credit.

Clenching his jaw to keep from smiling, the young man directed Grissom to the cash register. "Cash or credit?"

**csicsicsicsicsi**

_**In the meadow we can build a snowman**_

"This is beautiful!" Sara exclaimed as she tumbled onto the comfortably thick quilt draped over the tall 4-poster bed sitting in the bedroom of their cabin at the Copper Creek Inn. Her eyes trailed over the room to land on Grissom leaning against the doorframe, a pleased smile on his face.

Before he could say anything she was off the bed, wrapping arms about him and hugging him tightly. He started to laugh then picked her up and twirled her around (until his back protested) then carefully eased her back to the floor.

"So you like it?" he asked as she hugged him some more.

"You have to ask?"

"Well, I never know with you. You're so tightlipped about things," he deadpanned.

She pinched his cheek. "You're soooo cute!"

"I know," he responded as she rolled her eyes.

"When you said you had a surprise I wasn't expecting this. I thought Mountain Meadows was wonderful but this . . . this is . . ." She sighed and gave him a long luxurious kiss. "Exquisite," finally came out when she leaned back.

"Wow," was all he said. "Who knew mountain air would make you so . . ."

"Frisky? Lively? Spirited?"

"Hot!"

She giggled as he attacked her neck then gently pushed him away, hearing a moan of displeasure emanate from him. "We need to eat," she said.

"I know!"

"Not that kind of eat!" she laughed twisting out of his arms. "I want to try the Inn's blackberry pie."

He just looked at her - eyes flicking toward the bed then back to her – disbelief written on his face. They'd just spent three full days with five kids (ah, young adults) who were so eager to keep both Grissom and Sara in their midst they'd barely had two seconds alone. The hikes alone to the Western Hemlock with known mistletoe infestations was above 4500 feet and kept them out most of two of the three days. On that second night they discovered a Northern Spotted Owl a few miles from their Lodge and, with Ben and Grissom leading, hiked out to find it. So their nights were consumed with . . . sleep, as much as they could get and nothing else.

"But we're alone," was all he said as he tried to figure out why they weren't already flailing away on the bed scaring away all the wildlife.

"I know, baby, but they've been making this pie since 1946," she explained, edging toward the door. "We're only here for two days, Gil. I want to eat pie, make a snowman, go for a long walk and cream you and Hank with snowballs, taking as many pictures as I can."

He still hadn't moved and he had that bewildered look on his face. "But we're alone," he repeated.

She stopped her journey toward the door. "I know. God, I know, but I want this time to just be us, together." She wasn't saying this right. She'd confused herself. "Mountain Meadows was stunning. The kids were great and the mistletoe hunts were great fun. But it was work. I'm not complaining," she quickly added as he opened his mouth. "That last day, when I came back early, I ate a piece of pie and took a long walk with Hank."

Now he really was confused. She smiled and stepped toward him, placing hands on his chest and looking up into those oh so blue eyes.

"Hank is a poor substitute for _you_."

"Oh," he said then grimaced. "I'm sorry, honey."

"Don't be," she quickly said. "We got back so late and were both so tired, I would never ask you to do any of that on our last day."

Laying her head upon his chest, she snuggled up to him, loving the feel of his arms about her, then his cheek resting on her head.

"But I thought we were going home. I didn't know we were coming here, just the two of us for two full days," she said smiling up at him. "So, now I'm asking. There aren't any kids who might walk in on us, we got plenty of sleep last night and now it's our turn to enjoy the snow and the beauty around us, beauty we don't see very often." She watched him nod. "There's always time for wild monkey sex but the restaurant just finished baking their daily batch of pies."

He laughed and held her tightly. "Well, then, what are we waiting for?"

"Yes!" she squealed taking his hand and leading him towards the door. "Where's Hank?"

"Oh, I'm sure he's peed on every tree and ingratiated himself with all the wildlife," Grissom responded as she chuckled, the both of them stepping onto the porch to see their furry child barking at something in a tree. "Told you."

"Come on, boy!" Sara called, Hank's head whipping around, churning up snow as he raced toward them.

"They've been making this pie since 1946?" Grissom asked as they headed toward the restaurant.

"Yep."

"I hope it isn't _from_ 1946 'cause I'm gonna need a gallon of milk to wash _that _down."

Her giggle lit up his face as the three of them made their way inside.

**csicsicsicsi**

_**Oh, tidings of comfort and joy**_

Sara moved as quickly as she dared down the path from the Gift Shop to their cabin, clutching the wooden box that held a bottle of blackberry wine in one hand and two slices of pie with a side of ice cream in the other. Fat in a box, her mind kept telling her, but she didn't care. What with all the extracurricular activities she had talked her husband into they'd be back in fighting form when they got home - a long walk in deep snow, then the making of a snowman, woman and dog which then led to the inevitable snowball fracas sending them home cold, out of breath and wet from head to toe. Ever thankful for their own private hot tub out back, they took advantage of the solitude and christened said hot tub only to fumble their way back into the cabin and christen the bear rug lying conveniently in front of a roaring fire, his hat firmly in place. (At least, in the beginning.)

Sara couldn't help but smile at what she had planned next. Grissom was right. The mountain air was making her hornier than hell and, before they got home, both of them were going to be sore. Her smile widened. This was only their first night. She was very optimistic.

Those burning thoughts pushed her feet faster, along with the plunging temperatures, and she made great time, leaping onto the porch and through the door just as the first snowflakes of the evening began to fall. Placing the wine, pie and ice cream on the sideboard, she unwrapped herself from the many layers she wore until she was down to a turtleneck, Henley, and jeans. Wondering why Grissom hadn't asked after her, she figured he'd fallen asleep on the couch in front of the fireplace where she'd left him a good thirty minutes before. (They had a lot of neat things at the Gift Shop.)

Deciding to surprise him with her goodies, she headed for the kitchen to prepare their decadent dessert, humming 'Let it Snow' as she ventured toward the couch, plates in one hand, the wine and glasses in the other, peering over to find a rumpled blanket and a snoring Hank, but no Grissom.

"Gil?" she called.

"In here," came his muted voice bringing a warm feeling to every part of her. Even after all their years together, it still pleased her no end to hear his voice.

"I've a surprise for you," she called in a light voice as she headed toward the bedroom door.

"So have I," came back at her making her hesitate for a split second before shoving open the door with her shoulder and peeking around it. "Ho-ho-ho," came from a very naked Grissom stretched full length on the bed, a sprig of mistletoe dangling over his head - a head covered in a warm, faux fur hat.

Sara's mouth dropped open then gradually transformed into a naughty grin as she slowly approached.

"Who'da thought that I'd return from gathering food to find a snow dork in my bed," she said. "I thought I'd locked the door."

"Locks mean nothing to a snow dork when a snow bunny is in residence," he stated.

She giggled then and couldn't get the plates, wine and glasses on the dresser fast enough before leaping onto the bed and him. The mistletoe he'd been holding flew across the room since he needed both hands to catch her. But her angle was off and the next thing they knew both were rolling off the bed, landing with a heavy thud on the quilt Grissom had tossed to the floor. A few 'ows' rose from them followed by raucous laughter which was then replaced with Sara's clothes winging their way through the air much as the mistletoe had . . . then his hat.

They didn't even notice the ice cream dribbling over the plates nor did they much care.

**csicsicsicsi**

_**Oh, the weather outside is frightful**_

"Hurry up, Greg," Nick called out watching the young man carefully peel off the tape on his Secret Santa present.

"Hey, I'm in no hurry here. Besides, I really like the paper. Look. It's an old fashioned Santa."

Nick rolled his eyes and Warrick grinned while Catherine sat a cup of non-alcoholic eggnog in front of Grissom, trying to ignore his glum expression and not having very much luck.

"Okay, what's the matter?" she quietly asked as Greg painstakingly continued in his paper removal despite the hoots of disapproval around him.

"I'm fine."

"Yeah, right. I was just teasing that Hodges was your Secret Santa," she whispered to him. His eyes shifted up to hers. She just grinned at him and he huffed. "Oh, come on. What's wrong? Sara said you both had a great time up in the snow even though you're all bruised." She smiled. "Take a tumble down a snowdrift?"

"No," he said with a sigh. "But gravity was involved." His careful avoidance of her eyes caused her to smirk.

"Then what is it?"

"It's silly," he confessed taking a sip of nog, watching Greg finally get through the paper and open the box inside to pull out a bright pink muffler. He couldn't keep the surprise from his face at the young man's obvious delight when he wrapped it about his neck relishing in the laughter and whistles coming his way. "There's something wrong with that boy," he said with a shake of his head.

"That's why he fits in," Catherine said then prodded him. "Tell me."

He leaned his chin on his hand and chewed on a pinkie. "I lost something."

"What?"

"Something lucky. I thought I'd left it up at the cabin."

"Call them. They'll send it to you."

He shook his head. "Already did. They couldn't find it."

Catherine looked at him and gently rubbed his shoulder. "You'll find it," she said as he shrugged, her attention moving toward Sara. "The missus is up next," she said seeing a bit of a smile return to his face.

"Who could this be from?" Sara voiced aloud, looking at the package from end to end.

"Oh, man, you're as bad as Greg," Nick said as the others laughed.

She gave him the eye. "If you look closely at the wrapping you might be able to tell who it's from."

"What? Are you gonna print it?" Brass asked with a smirk.

"I just might," she answered, looking closely at the professional wrap job and realized it was done at a store. "Hmm," she muttered then reached for the end to rip it open only to be stayed by Greg's hand.

"That's really nice paper," he said. She looked at him and ripped through the snowman paper making him groan.

"What, are you like the paper fairy?" Warrick asked.

"Why go out and buy brand new paper when you can reuse? Recycling, my friend."

"He probably reuses his beer cans," Nick added.

"As long as it isn't his condoms," Sara tossed in making Greg narrow his eyes at her as she grinned and the others laughed. "Oh, it's a box," she proclaimed happily.

"Just open it," Brass said with a shake of his head.

Smirking, she carefully sliced through the thick tape holding down the lid then pulled back the tissue paper. Her hand stilled and a secretive grin appeared on her face.

"Man, it must be good to produce a look like that," Catherine piped up as Sara reached inside and pulled out a stuffed white bunny.

"A bunny?" Warrick said with a frown.

"Why would someone get you a bunny?" Brass asked.

"Not just any bunny," Sara informed him as she gazed at the cuddly stuffie. "A snow bunny."

"Just because it's white . . ." Nick began then stopped as she pointed out the word "SNO" embroidered on the bottom of one bunny foot. "Oh."

"She's beautiful," Sara said holding it close under her chin, eyes drifting toward Grissom who gave her a slight smile. "You had my name all along?" she signed.

"I wasn't supposed to tell," he signed back.

"Stop that," Brass offered, openly glaring at the both of them as they turned toward him.

"What?" Grissom innocently asked.

"Talking behind our back to our front," he stated with sharp nod. Everyone agreed with him until they thought about it. Brass waved off their confused comments. "You know what I mean."

"Haven't the foggiest," Grissom returned, eyes shifting back to Sara, his glum mood lifted some by the look she was giving him.

"They're making googily eyes at each other again," Warrick proclaimed.

"That's not nice," Nick added.

"Especially when we've all had a long dry spell," Catherine added.

"Amen to that," Warrick intoned as Nick nodded.

Sara's eyes drifted off her husband's toward the crowd. "Can't help it if you ain't gettin' any," she said ignoring the mocking words and gestures as she pushed the remaining gift toward Grissom. "I believe this is yours, handsome," she said.

Hesitantly, he took it then lifted it up to his ear for a few moments before shaking it. A few sniggers were directed his way making him look up. "I know you people. This could be anything." Setting it down he proceeded to carefully remove the tape from one end.

"Not you, too?" Nick sighed rolling his head back to stare at the ceiling.

"I'm a recycler just like Greg," he said slowly. "However, I do not recycle wrapping paper."

With that said he ripped off the Christmas tree paper and tossed it over his shoulder, a small grin tugging at his mouth when Greg's displeasure became vocal. But all other motions stopped when he saw what was under the paper – a wooden box with the Copper Creek Inn logo emblazoned on top. Eyes lifted toward Sara whose face held an innocent look. He pursed his lips and carefully opened the lid to reveal . . .

"What is it?" Catherine asked, her attention drawn to Grissom's ears that were turning a bit red. She smirked. "Was that what you lost?" she whispered to him.

"Come on, Gris," Nick began. "What is it?"

Reaching inside he very carefully pulled out . . . his fuzzy faux fur hat.

"What the crap is that?" Greg asked as everyone began to laugh.

Proudly, Grissom put it on his head and tied the strings under his chin. "For your information _this_ is my snow dork hat, so named by a gangly bunch of teens that ran away quickly when I glared at them. You're closer than they were. Don't press your luck," he added looking directly at Greg.

"And I wouldn't be too quick to call things crap when you're wearing a bright pink muffler," Brass added as Greg ran a hand over the material.

"But it's soft."

"And so is my bunny," Sara added.

"And so is my hat," Grissom finished with a loving grin toward his beautiful wife.

"Ah, I'm gonna be sick," Nick muttered holding a hand over his mouth.

"Love is beautiful, Nick," Catherine stated with a wide grin. "You'll know when you find it."

"_If_ he ever finds it," Warrick added as Nick punched him in the arm starting off a gaggle of comments from the herd.

"You had my hat all along, you stinker," Grissom signed to Sara who tried not to grin too broadly.

"It fell on the floor while we were packing and you didn't see it," she signed back.

"Thank you," came his last sign as Brass stood, raising his eggnog filled paper cup.

"To all of us, may we get everything we want for Christmas and more. Cheers."

"Amen to that," followed just as Hodges waltzed into the room stopping dead in his tracks.

Noticing the sudden quiet, Grissom followed everyone's gaze. "Hodges?" he said, a very serious look on his face.

"Ah, that's a . . . that's a really nice hat, Gris," he managed with a nod.

"I like it," was all he said waiting for more. "Did you want something?"

Tearing his eyes from the vision before him, Hodges blinked a few times. "Yes. Sorry. Nick, your results are ready on the Caswell case. Just thought you should know."

"Thanks, Hodges. I'll be right there."

"Okay. Okay," he repeated as he slowly backed out of the room, eyes fixated on Grissom's hat. "Right, I'll-I'll be waiting."

And then he was gone and the room erupted in laughter.

"You're bad, Gil," Catherine said between chuckles.

"What?" He seemed perplexed but everyone knew he wasn't.

"Oh, there goes my phone," Brass announced. "So much for a little Christmas break. Brass."

They watched him leave as pagers started going off.

"Doc Robbins is calling," Warrick said. "Off to the morgue I go."

"Vartann wants me for something," Catherine bemoaned. "Thanks everyone."

Nick gathered up his stuff and headed toward the door. "Thanks for this, Griss. It was fun."

"Merry Christmas, Nick. Have a safe flight home."

"See you after New Years."

He smiled and was gone, leaving Grissom and Sara alone at the table.

"Thank you for my bunny," she said squeezing it under her chin again. "Wherever did you find it?"

"It was kismet. It literally fell to the floor in front of me, landing with its pink padded feet up in the air. And what to my wondering eyes did appear? But the name Sno embroidered there. It was a sign."

"You? A sign? Is this a Christmas miracle?" she said with fake astonishment as he laughed.

"I'll take a Christmas miracle in whatever form it takes," he said taking hold of her outstretched hand and kissing the back of it. "I can't believe you had my hat or my name."

"I didn't start with your name," she admitted.

"Oh?"

"I had Greg and Nick had you. He was bemoaning the fact that there wasn't anything he could get you for $10."

"Chocolate covered grasshoppers."

"Yeah. I don't think he even wanted to go there. So I traded with him but I had no idea what to get you until I saw your hat lying on the floor of the cabin. You were already out the door with the luggage and I pushed it into my bag to see if you missed it. I'd already wrapped it by the time you brought it up. I almost gave it to you before we left the house, you were so heartbroken."

"It's my lucky hat," he explained, running a hand along the soft faux fur. "I have pleasant memories of testing that luck. Well, except for my black eye."

She grinned at him. "Sorry about that. I misjudged my leap." Leaning in she kissed him, noticing a few looks directed their way through the glass walls. "People are staring."

"Let 'em stare," he said running fingers down her cheek.

"I think they're jealous."

"Of what?"

"Your hat."

"Well, yeah. I mean look at it," he said lifting up his chin. "It looks good doesn't it?"

She laughed and kissed him on the cheek, straying near his ear. "Maybe we should test the luck theory again."

"Now?" he asked, a touch of eagerness and worry mixed within that one word.

"Later, silly. The snow bunny has to get ready you know. _This_ doesn't just happen," she said with a giggle as he grinned.

"You look fine to me, honey."

She tweaked his cheek. "That's one of the reasons I love you. You're blind." She stood then and handed him her bunny. "Everyone's conveniently gone. It's time to get started. Keep her safe until end of shift."

"I will. The bag is stuffed under my desk. Be quick. You only have so many minutes before everyone gets back to their appointed places."

"I know," she said with a big, bright grin.

"I'll distract them with my hat."

He smiled after her as she took off toward his office, keeping an eye out for anyone skulking about and seeing no one. Hearing a noise, he turned, spying her sneaking out of his office with a large green bag over her shoulder and a pointed elf hat on her head. Tinkling bells could be heard as she hurried down the hallway and out of sight.

"Well, Sno," he said as he ducked into his office, pulling at the bow under his chin and easing off his hat. "It looks like it's just me and you for a spell."

Tilting his head, he placed the hat on Sno's head with a grin then pushed those thoughts that were suddenly raging through his brain away. If he didn't he wouldn't get any work done and there were still five hours left in his shift.

"Work. Think about work," he muttered to himself, sitting down in his chair to stare at the overflowing 'to do' box waiting for him. 'Jingle Bell Rock' began drifting down the hallway and he forced himself to hum along hoping that would keep his thoughts on work and not on his nether regions as he picked up the first file just as Brass appeared at his door.

"Get your stuff, Gil," he began. "There's a 419 out at Zoolights. Seems Santa and Rudolph got into a ruckus. The words . . ." He stopped, glancing at his notepad. ". . .'fly your own damn sleigh' were heard as Rudolph drop-kicked Santa into a lit display of the Nativity."

"Sounds festive," Grissom responded. "Why do you need me?"

"Because it would appear that Santa wasn't electrocuted by the baby Jesus but shot and the only ones not accounted for are Hermie and Yukon Cornelius."

"The only ones?" he frowned.

Looking at his notepad again, Brass continued. "Bumble, Comet, Fireball, the Tall Elf and Lady Elf are all giving statements."

"What about Clarice?" Grissom asked.

"She's standing by her Rudolph," Brass seriously informed him.

"Isn't it kind of late for Zoolights to be open?" he replied, rising from his chair and grabbing his kit and coat.

"This was an 'after hours' party not sanctioned by the Zoo itself."

"Aw. And the misfits?"

"Santa's Castle group only."

Grissom sighed. "It looks like the misfits won't be going with Santa again this year. Such a shame. They've been waiting so long," he gravely said walking beside Brass down the hallway keeping an eye out for Sara.

"I always thought they were better off on the island," Brass said with shake of his head. "No peanut buttery sticky fingers or teething, slobbering messes to worry about. They had a home, a square meal and a benevolent lion to watch over them. What more could they want?" he asked with a shrug.

"Love, Jim. They wanted to be loved," he said with a look that clearly said 'I can't believe you don't know that'.

Brass chuckled then grabbed Grissom's arm and pulled him to a stop. "Hey, where's your hat?"

"Sno is using it," he answered.

"But, baby, it's cold outside," Brass said with a grin.

"Not that cold."

"I was hoping to see the snow dork again. I like that guy."

"Sorry," Grissom said with a shake of his head. "That guy's only for Sara. You just get the snow geek."

Brass sighed, looking put out. "I never get the good stuff."

Grissom's eyes twinkled. "It's not Christmas yet," was all he said moving past Brass to make sure Sara wasn't in the hall, only to catch sight of her hurrying in the opposite direction.

"What are you grinning at?" asked Brass as he looked down the hall to see nothing.

"Tomorrow's Christmas," Grissom quickly said. "What's _not_ to grin about?"

"You all right, Gil? You didn't tie those hat strings too tight under your chin did you? Cut off some circulation to the brain?"

Laughing, Grissom slapped Brass on the back and maneuvered him toward the parking lot, hoping the detective didn't hear the faint sounds of bells, pushing open the doors and stepping out into the cold, rainy night.

"Ah, lovely," he said breathing in the frigid air knowing that in a few short hours he'd be snuggling up next to his wife ever more thankful for every day they shared together.

"Now you're smiling," Brass informed him as they both ducked into his car.

"I'm happy, Jim. Extremely, utterly happy."

A full-fledged Grissom smile was infectious and Brass couldn't help himself as his turned into a laugh. Starting up the engine, a bolt of lightning lit up the night sky and the rain fell even harder.

"Oh, the weather outside is frightful . . .'" he began turning to Grissom who raised his brows and joined in.

"'But the fire is so delightful . . .'"

"'And since we've no place to go . . .'"

"'Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!'" they finished together with a hearty laugh as they drove off into the night.

* * *

><p><em>Zoolights is an attraction here at the Tacoma Zoo in Washington state. I'm not sure if they do it at other zoos around the country. They decorate the animal enclosures with Christmas lights and also have lighted displays. Aside from being really cold, it's pretty cool.<em>

_Mountain Meadows and Copper Creek Inn are real places just outside Mt. Rainier, Washington. According to their websites they are nice places to stay and not that expensive._

_I was anointed with the snow dork name when I purchased a hat like Grissom's when we first arrived here in Washington state. I still have that hat. It's very warm._

* * *

><p><em>I've been sick and almost missed the deadline for the December challenge. I hope you enjoy it. And I wish all of you a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year and, for those of you who don't celebrate Christmas, have a wonderful rest of December and may 2012 last beyond December 21st. :-D<br>_


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